Courage

We took my youngest sister to the airport yesterday and now she's back at home in Fort Worth, Texas. We'd spent the last 10 days or so together - the longest stretch of time since I don't know when.

My sister is epileptic and her seizures aren't controlled. Her memory is virtually non-existent, she wears two hearing aids but often doesn't seem to be tracking. She has emphysema and got quickly winded as we walked together. She's lived in an assisted living center for the past 12 years. As one of the youngest residents, her friends continue to die on her.

The hand life has dealt her sucks big-time.

She makes the best of it, or tries to.

She's been befriended by the staff, and helps the activities director by making copies and other simple tasks. She gets a $10 per month deduction on her rent in return, and is very proud of her contribution to both the facility and to the cost of her care. She calls bingo twice a week and was president of the Residents Council for five years. She's recently started seeing a therapist.

And this week she rode a horse. While I was at work downtown, my good friend and neighbor took my sister to visit her horse. Beforehand, my sister told me, "Maybe I'll get to ride it! I mean, why not? I'm 53. I've never ridden a horse and when am I going to get the chance again?"

She loved it, though the horse was big and scary. An abused show horse who is known to be temperamental. She was scared, but she told me, "What the heck?" And it went beautifully.

I wish I'd been there, but Mr. D captured it on camera.